The Vastly Open Skies
by starkobsessed247
Summary: When someone has powers beyond the natural, they take on a responsibility to help the world. Adrienne is an elemental with a brother who's a seer and if he won't save the future, she'll have to. But future alteration is a tricky business and falling for Captain America after trying to help him adjust could do more bad than good. CapXOC. M for later chapters and swearing.


_**Chapter 1 – The Vastly Open Skies**_

* * *

The note had given him an address, a time and the promise of an explanation.

An explanation of what exactly, Steve wasn't sure.

Steve followed the directions he'd found on the internet and followed them somewhat sceptically. New York was still chilly with the receding winter so he walked around with his head down and his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

It turned out that the address belonged to a café in a back street. From the outside, it looked grimy and not particularly well kept, suddenly, Steve felt a little less enthusiastic about the idea of meeting someone here. He decided to give the note writer the benefit of the doubt and stepped inside.

And he was glad he did.

The door closed behind him and the warmth hit him. There was a fireplace on the far wall with a large Wolfhound and a Bassett Hound laying in front of the flames. The café had revealed brick walls and despite being somewhat dark, the atmosphere was nice, very in keeping with the time of year and subsequently very calming. There were barely any people inside, only four that he could see and possibly more up the staircase to his left. He took a moment to assess the situation.

There was a doorway into the kitchen and a window that could be smashed if needs be. Not one single person, even the lone barista behind the counter, looked up as he stood in the doorway.

Except for one.

She rose slowly, almost phantom-like, and as she did, the wolfhound lifted his head to watch. She didn't speak a word and simply moved her head to gesture towards the table where she had been seated before.

He walked over cautiously, eyes moving around the room to watch the few people around as she sat soundlessly back in the seat. As he came closer to the table, he saw the wolfhound rise to his feet, head low, back arched, and fur bristled. Steve's steps faltered and the woman's hand went up to get the animals attention before it slowly lowered. The dog obeyed and laid back down in front of the fire. Steve moved on and sat down but he had the sense that the hound was watching him even though he was no longer in a defensive position.

He sat down, her emerald eyes never leaving his. She had a faint smile on her face that was carried more in her eyes than anything else. She was wearing black jeans with a red and black flannel shirt buttoned almost all of the way up and fit her well. She had clunky combat boots on her feet and a black beanie hat hung with remarkable precision on the back of her head. Her dark hair fell in natural, loose curls down past her breasts.

"Do you remember me, Captain?" She was Irish, he assumed, her accent had faded but was still noticeable. Steve frowned and shook his head. She gave an odd smile that never quite reached her eyes. "Never mind, I didn't really expect you too. My name's Adrienne Byrne." She shifted in the seat. "You met me three times, though, the second time, I was there for Bucky more than you."

"Bucky?" It was a kneejerk reaction coming from loneliness. Steve couldn't express how much he missed his friends; Bucky and Peggy and _anyone, _really, from the time he belonged in.

She smiled and hummed.

"Wait, how did you meet Bucky in the first place? He di-" His speech faltered and he swallowed. "He died during the war."

Adrienne looked down. "I know."

"How do you know?" He insisted.

She pulled her satchel onto the table and bought out a file pocket. She opened it and slipped out a worn piece of paper. She placed it in front of him. He cocked an eyebrow. "What's this?"

She smiled. "My birth certificate."

He looked at her confusedly and glanced at the piece of paper. "1824?!" He exclaimed, a little too loudly for the small café. She nodded. "I figured you'd believe an official document more than if I simply told you." If Steve was honest with himself, the way she held herself and the way she spoke _was _rather archaic. Even if it was an elaborate joke, it was a well-planned elaborate joke.

He paused. "That's impossible." Then he reconsidered. "How?"

She leant forward, her eyes no longer glinting with the same playfulness as before. Whatever she was about to say was serious and not something she could joke about with. "There are people who can do amazing things." She said. "Nobody sees us, _nobody cares, _to everyone else, we're just normal." Steve was beginning to get nervous about whatever she was going to tell him and it made him slightly impatient.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"We have powers."

Steve managed to find a minute to check that what he thought she'd said was right as the barista came over and laid down two cups of coffee. He leant back in the chair and glanced between the beverage he doubted he'd drink and the woman he doubted he trusted. He noticed that a sneaky look was passed between the barista and Adrienne. He glanced around, suddenly realising that this still could be a plan to trap him. When he found that nobody seemed too suspicious, he relaxed slightly and looked back to Adrienne as the barista moved back behind the counter.

"What do you mean?" He repeated.

She smiled, the playfulness back in her eyes. With a click of her fingers, there was a spark and a flame clung to the end of her thumb. Before he could even register what had happened, she swiped her thumb down and with a whoosh of consumed oxygen, the flame grew into a ball that engulfed her hand and stayed there.

Steve didn't take his eyes from the ball until it died when she clenched her fist. "What was that?" He asked.

She smiled. "That was _my_ power."

"Fire?"

Her smile widened. "Elements." With another flick of her hand, the plant at the other end of the table started to grow and bloom, filling the surrounding area with its beautiful, fresh scent.

"So people with powers are immortal? Is that why you don't age?"

"We call ourselves mages, and not immortal, just slow to age." She pulled another picture from the wallet and spun it to him. This picture had a sepia tint to it and showed her hugging a man in an army uniform. "This was during the Civil War, I was 60 at this point but still looked 20. Now I'm 200 and look 26."

He thought for a moment, everything she was saying was, oddly, starting to sound quite believable. "What did you want with Bucky?"

"I had a warning for him. I warned _you_ about something once, too." Steve frowned and she continued. "Do you remember, just before you went down in the plane? There was some interference on the channel?"

_'Capt . . . Captain? . . . Captain Rogers? Can you hear me?'_

_'Who is this? This is a secure military channel!'_

_'Oh thank God! Hello Captain, my name's Adrienne, I have some information that might help you.'_

_'What do you mean?'_

_'This crash won't kill you Captain. You're about to plunge into temperatures so cold that you'll be frozen and preserved instantly.'_

_'What?'_

_'I don't have time to explain, I just need you to trust me. You need to take that plane down. You'll be found and you'll wake up, I promise . . . I need you to trust me. Don't worry Captain, everything will be fine, you're going to survive this."_

_'. . . Thank you, Adrienne.'_

_'It's my pleasure Captain, I'll see you soon.'_

_'I'm taking her down now."_

_'. . . goodnight Captain Rogers.'_

"Yeah, I remember."

She smiled. "Good."

"How did you know?"

Her smile turned sad. "I had a brother, he was a seer. He saw the future of the people he was in contact with and, occasionally, when the there was a serious risk, he'd see the futures of random people."

"And that's why you're here for me?"

She nodded as she sipped the coffee. "It's why I was there for Bucky too."

"What did you tell him?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you that yet."

"Yet?"

She grinned at how much he paid attention. "There are some things that you just shouldn't know. Everything follows a timeline and 1 move is enough to change the future, the many moves and it warps the future into something that can't be saved." Steve seemed conflicted suddenly about whether his meeting her was such a good idea. This was opening up a whole different can of worms that he wasn't sure he would be able to handle. "I need you to trust me, Steve."

"How do I trust someone with so many secrets?"

"I'm hoping I can earn it. Listen, I'm like you, I had to adjust as the times went on. That means that I have experience-"

"I'm doing fine on my own."

She deadpanned. "Oh really? And what were you doing before I gave you the note? Sitting at home, that's what. You leave the house to go to the gym, you've had no contact with anyone from this time, and you still dress like it's the 40's. Living like it's the 40's isn't going to magically get you back there. You have to work on moving on." She paused. "Let me help you." Steve paused and didn't reply, pondering over what she'd said. "Listen, there are tons of things nowadays to help you get along: magazines, TV programmes, music! All of it's advanced since you went under, I've lived all of it, I'll walk you through what you've missed and help you catch up. It'll work out."

"And how do I let you do that when I know you're keeping secrets."

She groaned. "What don't you understand about this?! I can't tell you what I know! If I do, it will change the future in such a way that I'll have twice the amount of work to do to fix it and if I do manage to fix it, the world will never be the same."

"So why didn't you just meet up with me closer to the time?"

She groaned again. "Because I need you to trust me before I tell you."

"What's so big that you can't tell me now?!" His voice rose in frustration.

"You know? You're a lot more stubborn than you were in the 40's." She said.

"And how would you feel if you'd been plucked from your own time and deposited somewhere were everything was different? If all your friends were dead? If everything had changed? What would you do?"

She didn't answer for a while, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the coffee cup. "You're forgetting." She said, clearly trying to calm her tone. "I'm 100 years older than you. _Everyone _I grew up with is dead. I was married once, when the potato famine started, I had children who died, both of the men I loved are dead, friends I'd had for decades lost their lives in multiple wars. My years pass like this-" She clicked her fingers. "I've seen everything develop; cars, music, technology. I _get_ what you're going through, I may not know what it's like to have everything hange so suddenly but I certainly know more than anyone else you'll meet. So don't ask me those questions like I don't know what it's like."

Steve looked down into his coffee and sighed. He wanted to apologise; he wanted to explain that he didn't know who he was anymore. He'd spent almost 2 months just sitting in his misery thinking that things couldn't get worse; that nobody could ever understand. He needed Adrienne to help him. He couldn't spend another second being clueless about how to get along in the world. He didn't like feeling useless. He spent his entire life being useless; being held back by his size and the umpteen different ailments effecting him. Now he had the serum and he was still useless.

"Help me." He said quietly, still looking down. "I don't care what secrets you're keeping, I just know that I can't keep going on like this. I can't feel useless anymore."

Adrienne chewed her lip and sighed. She took a few breaths and stood. Immediately, the wolfhound was by her hip, staring at Steve. He looked up to the woman, wondering what she was going to do.

She moved her emerald eyes from his and spoke quietly. "I'll be in touch." Without another word, she pulled some change from her pocket, placed it on the table for the barista and strode from the café, the animal close on her heels.

He watched her through the window as she pulled the hood of her jumper up and disappeared into the crowd, leaving him there with only his confused thoughts.

Steve woke up early, as per usual, the lonely hole in his chest aching as he breathed in the chilly air of his apartment. He got dressed and walked into his kitchen, fixing up some toast and sitting at the table to eat it. He ignored the trains as they passed outside, shaking the floor of the apartment and blocked everything out to the point that when there was a knock at the door, he barely noticed it.

The person had to knock again before he looked up from the empty plate and stood. He watched the door, seeing the unmoving shadows of two feet through the crack underneath the door. Silently, he approached the door. He looked through the peephole and slumped in somewhat frustration.

Adrienne was on the other side.

He pulled open the door and before he could ask her what the hell she was doing at his apartment, she'd walked in and shoved a small dog into his arms. "Hold this," She said as she did. "and this." She handed him a Starbuck's cup. He frowned as she looked around the apartment and he kicked the door closed. The puppy in his arms wriggled, wanting attention which he gave in the form of a single finger that scratched behind its ear.

"So," She announced. "Where do you want to start?" She stood in the centre of his apartment smiling hopefully at him. To be honest, he'd never really had and women anywhere he'd lived so seeing Adrienne standing there was a little odd. There was a different etiquette in the 40's and he wouldn't have been able to get a girl back to his apartment anyway.

Adrienne was the perfect example of what he'd missed. She, currently, was wearing a pair of ripped skinny jeans with the same combat boots as the day before, a plain white vest that showed a slither of her slim stomach with a black leather jacket. The fashion – or at least what was acceptable – nowadays was one of the things that was completely different from the time he'd come from.

Steve placed the cup down and kept the puppy in his hand. "What are you doing here?"

She looked between Steve's face and the wriggling puppy in his hands and chuckled. "I can't take you seriously while you're holding him," She said. "Give him here." She stepped forward and took the puppy to place him on the floor.

When she stood back up, she smiled and removed her jacket, revealing a series of tattoo's on her arms. He decided to ask later. "I'm here to apologise for leaving yesterday, so - _sorry," _She shrugged. "And to get to work." As simple, vague and insincere her apology was, he accepted it. "So where do you want to start?"

Steve paused for a moment, wondering where he _did _want to start. She was right, he'd spent the last few weeks being so caught up in how sad he was that his old life was gone, he hadn't attempted to start his new one.

She smiled. "That's alright, I made a list last night." She pulled a notebook from the satchel over her shoulder. She moved to the table and he followed. "I made 3 sections: music, film, and general. If you want, I can explain all of the major changes over the last 70 years? Do you want to start now?"

He smiled. "Can't say I have anyone to make plans with, so I have nothing else to do."

She smiled, her emerald eyes lighting up. She moved over to the table and laid out her things. She had 3 different coloured notebooks, a laptop and an album of photographs.

They sat through the morning rush hour and spoke of cultural changes; words nobody used anymore, people who had effected advancements and music that had influenced the generations.

They took a break at lunch and they scraped together some sandwiches together in the kitchen. "Basically," Adrienne explained as she sat back down at the table with her snack, pulling the puppy from the floor onto her lap. "In my eyes, there are 5 people who are gods of modern music." She proceeded to list 5 names of people he'd never heard. He'd heard of Dave Grohl and Kurt Cobain when he'd done some research of his own and Bob Dylan had been mentioned a few times but the others meant nothing to him. He 'would have to Google them' (as Adrienne put it). "I have a huge collection of records at my place, we'll set out a day and you can come round and we'll listen to all of the music you've missed."

"Records?" Steve said, sitting opposite her. "I thought people got downloads now."

Adrienne nodded. "We do, but trust me, vinyl sounds better."

They sat eating for a while before the puppy started to stir in Adrienne's lap and tried to get onto the table top. She placed her sandwich down for a moment and scratched behind his ears to get him to calm down.

"You like dogs then?" He asked.

She smiled. "Yeah, me and my housemate look after and rescue dogs, this is _my _newest baby, Barney."

"Is _he_ a rescue dog?"

"Technically. He was going to get put down because nobody wanted him. He's a merlequin pattern and it's counted as a defect so he was going to get put down. I bought him before they could do it."

"Do you train them to work?"

"Kind of, the Wolfhound you saw yesterday, he comes on missions with me more than any others."

Steve froze. "Missions?" He asked. "Who gives you missions?"

Adrienne realised her mistake and looked him in the eyes. "Nobody." She said. "I work for myself. If anything, my brother gives me missions by telling me the future."

Steve's jaw tensed. "I don't believe that."

She sighed. "I promise I'm not lying. What did I say about having to trust me?"

"What did I say about finding it hard to trust someone who keeps secrets?"

Adrienne closed her eyes and took a breath. "Please don't do this Steve. I'm not lying to you. I don't work for anyone." She paused. "Not anymore. And if I have to explain to you why I don't work for people anymore then I will but it's going to eat into your catching up time." She looked extremely reluctant to retell the story and as much as he hated it, he _was _beginning to trust her. So he shrugged.

"Maybe another time."

Her eyes softened, seemingly shocked by the small act of kindness. He hadn't realised just how pretty she was. He hadn't bothered to take notice. Her features were soft and she had the prominent cheekbones, slightly sunken eyes and straight nose that were taken as classically Celtic. She had pale skin and hair that fell in perfect waves. Though really, he wasn't sure that the way she looked was what made him notice her. She was a good person. She was helping him and even though it was for a reason other than the kindness of her heart, it was for good reasons nonetheless. It was nice to have somebody tell him that it was alright to be confused. Not only that but she was strong and determined, she knew what and how she wanted something and in that way she reminded him of . . .

. . . Peggy.

He sighed in sadness at the thought. He really did love Peggy and though she was still alive, he hadn't found any way to contact her. A few moments passed before Adrienne spoke up.

"Are you okay?"

Steve looked up, not realising it was obvious that he was disheartened. "Yeah, fine."

Adrienne nodded, knowing that something was wrong and understanding that she was in no position to ask him to elaborate. He didn't trust her yet. "Okay."

Steve spoke up in hopes that it would dismiss her perception that he was sad. "So what's with the tattoos?" He asked purely finding anything to talk about.

She chuckled and smiled. "Are you for or against them?"

He shrugged. "Neither."

"Good," She leaned forward. "Then I will attempt to sway your judgement." She showed her arms. She explained that all of her tattoos had meaning. She had 'Luck of the Irish' on her upper left arm and Viva la revolucion in cursive type across her wrist. There was an Ama-gi tattoo down her forearm and a 13 in a circle near the joint of her elbow. "I have others and I want more but, obviously, aging slower than everyone else means I have a lot longer to change my opinions and regret things so I'm taking my time."

Steve ran his finger down her forearm. "What does this one mean?" He asked.

It took Adrienne a moment to get over the fact that he was touching her, _gently. _She hadn't been touched like that in years. She swallowed and took a breath. "'Return to the mother'. To me it means 'freedom' . . . 'the returning of everything to its original status' – as Wikipedia describes it."

"w-Wikipedia?" Steve asked.

She smiled. "I'll explain later. Basically, it reminds me that we're born with everything we need, we're born free and only by growing and conforming do we get tied down and lose our freedom. It tells me to not be afraid of being different, to stand out, be who and what I want to be and not give up my freedom."

Steve smiled and nodded in understanding.

"So have I swayed your judgement?"

He nodded. "They're alright."

She smiled. "That's more than I could expect from most 90 year olds."

"Technically-"

"You're not 90," She stood and moved back into the kitchen to put her plate in the sink. "You're only 27, I know, I get it _Granddad_."

"Says the 200 year old." Steve retorted, standing to join her.

"Well biologically, _I'm_ 26 so…" She started to run the hot tap.

"I can do that." Steve said. Dismissing the conversation and standing behind her.

She turned to him and smiled. "It's fine."

Now they were close and she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She was pretty much half his size in the shoulders but no more than 3 inches shorter in height. Unfortunately, that meant that when she turned, she came face to face with his lips, which _really_ isn't that unfortunate but she had a job to do. She wasn't here to fall for Captain America. Even if he was as the peak of fitness with morals that were more righteous that anyone she'd ever met. _She was not going to fall for Steve._

"You wash, I dry?" He suggested. For a moment, she didn't register what he'd said and just watched his lips move over the words. "Adrienne?"

She shook herself out of her thoughts and looked up. "Ah, sure."

She turned again and they started to wash up. It wasn't much but it was distraction enough to keep them in a comfortable silence for a while.

As the last item was placed in the cupboard, Steve leant on the sideboard. "Can I ask you a question?"

She did the same on the other side of the small kitchen, facing him and shrugged, inviting him to continue.

"What's your past?" He seemed unsure about the question. "I get that it's kind of invasive but-"

"It's fine," She said. "I get it. I want you to trust me but you know nothing about me. Come on, sit back down and I'll tell you."

They sat in the window, the midday sunlight streaking through the window casting their shadows on the hardwood floor. Barney jumped up onto Adrienne's lap and proceeded to fall asleep as she gave him the rundown of her long life.

He watched as she explained briefly that she'd been born in Donegal in Ireland and had been married at 18 to a mage before having 2 children who she left nameless as she retold the story. She drifted over their deaths as she explained her husband and she moving to America to escape the famine . . . alone. Her husband was drafted into the US Military and survived the Civil War. But then, still looking 24, he was drafted to fight in the First World War and went missing in action, leaving her alone for before her brother also moved to America.

That's when they started to help the world. Her brother would receive flashes of the future and they would warn people, make the future change for the better. They didn't do it often, they didn't get the chance to. Her brothers flashes were few and far between and only when something serious was set in motion did they step in. "Then," She explained. "Just after the war, we started doing some less admirable things. We joined a group and used our powers to obtain information about people, places, events that were yet to happen; working for someone who we never saw and never knew what he did with the information. It's there that I met my second husband. He was in the same line of work as me, he was human but he knew what we could do, the relationship was toxic at first, I realise now. We played around, like everyone else in the 60's but after that, when we all left the gang we worked for, the relationship changed. We started doing good things again. The relationship became more about the feelings. It was nice. But then in the 90's, things got odd. By this point, he looked 60 and I still looked 22." She took a breath and ran her hand through her hair. "So I guess it was for the best that he died in '94. I wasn't as easy as it used to be, for one I was being mistook for his granddaughter. He didn't understand in the end anyway, kept asking how I still looked the same and where our children were and where I was." Her eyes had glazed over and her face was unreadable.

"Alzheimer's?"

She swallowed and nodded, bringing herself out of her memories.

"I'm sorry."

She smirked. "Did you give him Alzheimer's?" She asked.

"No."

"Then what're you sorry for?" She wrung her fingers. "It's been years, I wallowed in self-pity for long enough without other people giving me theirs."

He gave a single, thoughtful laugh and then continued. "Did you love him? Even near the end?"

She looked up to Steve and gave a short nod. "100 percent."

"And what about now?"

She paused. "It gets easier, but if there's one thing I've learned in 200 years of life, it's that people you love rarely stop being loved." She knew he was asking for advice about Peggy, so she gave it to him. "She got married Steve. She had a life. I have no doubt that she loved you, even as she moved on with her life." She leant over the table and placed her hand atop his, squeezing comfortingly. "But, for risk of sounding cliché, that's what we have to do . . . _move on_. Find someone new."

Steve turned his hand upwards and squeezed her hand back. Adrienne's breath caught in her throat and she watched their hands. She didn't realise how much she missed having her hand held and she looked up to Steve whose eyes were also on them. She looked at the strong line of his jaw and the strong, wide muscles hiding behind that bloody ancient-looking shirt. His bright blue eyes met hers and one thought went through her head. . . _Oh Fuck._

* * *

_**So, this is my new Fanfic. Hopefully this one will get finished. I fell in love with Steve (after unabashedly arguing that he was useless with several of my friends since Avengers) when the Russo brothers got his character so much better than Joss Whedon did. Now Steve and Bucky are both high on my list of favourite characters. I plan to run this into the Avenegers story line an then TWS and hopefully AOU and Civil War (*Sobs uncontrollably*)**_

_**The title of this is from a song by The Smith Street Band called Something I Can Hold in My Hands. It's a wonderful song by a brilliant band and I've yet to find a song of theirs I don't like so give them a go if you like.**_

_**I'm currently studying for AS Levels so new chapters will be slow but reviews, follows and favourites will highly increase your chances of getting updates so you know what to do.**_


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